A Da Vinci Code Moment

Torrential rain fell from a brown-grey sky.while with the ancient key.Eventually the key
Impromptu streams formed themselves intheturned and I pushed open the heavy door.
middle of the roads, making driving difficult. It wasImmediately inside the door it was dark, and the
very cold.I have often had the experience, in mydarkness became intense after the door swung
researches, of penetrating into ever more remoteshut behind me. Moving forward, I entered the
areas of the county, only to find even moremain body of the church where a brownish light
obscure communities that lie beyond. Just as youcame through the windows from the wet
think you know a region, it surprises you with yetafternoon sky. The rain thundered down on the
another aspect that appears, as if fromroof.The interior was basically one large room
nowhere.Such a district is the south-easternmostdivided into a nave and a chancel. The furnishings
part of the escarpment (the hills peter out, butwere sumptuous Victorian, with brass chandeliers
unexpectedly appear again, at a lower level,suspended over the chancel like golden crowns
hidden by trees). This group of wooded hills is(looking up at them through the murky light I saw
crossed by a confusing cats cradle of lanesthat they held candles, so yet another building in
between two market towns. There is anthe twenty-first century lit by candlelight). Some
unsettling quality to the atmosphere in this locality,indifferent medieval wall paintings, preserved more
almost a creepiness - not entirely unpleasant, butfor their great antiquity rather than any artistic
there are places you would not want to staymerit.I had walked about halfway down the length
after night has fallen. An example being the villageof the church, when my intuition told me,
I went to last Sunday.It comprised a tiny estateinsistently: something is behind you . Looking round
around an Edwardian hall, the village all of a pieceI saw the upper half of the west end was filled
architecturally. The village was at the base of aby a gallery, and on this gallery I could see
small valley, with a sluggish and meandering riverdazzlingPre-Raphaelite figures (highly coloured with
going through it. Steep slopes to the sides of thegolden halos). In the gloom I thought for a
valley, very green fields, hedgerows bordering themoment (an unpleasant moment) the figures
lanes with oak trees dotted along them (the treeswere alive (it was a real "Da Vinci Code"
so swathed in ivy they appear to be choking).moment!), until rationality gained control andI could
There were a few large farmhouses, and a shortsee that they were painted on a huge elaborate
street of cottages, all built in a picturesque stylecabinet, of immense proportions, containing the
(knapped flints, redbrick quoins, high gables). Thechurch organ.Returning the key to the bungalow I
cottages were physically small, but had aagain stood in the rain (not so heavy) while the
grandiose appearance, as if they were miniatureold lady talked about the village. The parish had
mansions - the rooms inside these cottages mustbeen dominated for over a century by a dynasty
be miniscule(the picturesque life was alwaysof Rectors who passed the Living down, father to
uncomfortable). Out in the fields, placedson, in a sort of ecclesiastical monarchy. The
strategically for theatrical effect, were isolatedorgan was one of the treasures of the area, and
cottages, now ruined and tumbledown, sheephad been brought to the church during the
looking inquisitively out of the gaping holes whereSecond World War when the village it was
the front doors would have been.Crossing thepreviously located in had been taken over by the
river over a small humped-back bridge, I enteredmilitary. There had been a long feud between the
a world that was cold, damp and beautiful. ThereRectors of the church and the lords of the
was an extremely sharp bend to the road, andmanor, and one of the more irascible occupants
then the little village street with the main entranceof the Hall had been buried just inside the church
to the hall at the end (the hall was a jewel ofdoor so that everyone entering the building
Edwardian architecture - an expansive,stepped on his grave. I jotted down all her stories
self-satisfied sort of building, built for a banker ininto my notebook, the falling spots of rain making
1905 and allowed to run-down in recent yearsthe ink run. Just as I was leaving I asked her
following the death of a young heir in a car crash).about a reference I had read in an obscure local
To one side of the hall gates was the church, highhistory that the parish had once had two
on a bank, with a round tower and heavymedieval churches, and that the ruins of the other
buttresses supporting thewalls.I got the key tochurch could still be seen."Ah, but it's no longer in
the church from a nearby bungalow, standing inruins" she said mysteriously. "It's been restored in
the rain while the elderly lady searched for it, thenthe last few years. The restoration has been a
continuing to stand in the rain while she chattedlabour of love by one man. It's up on the ridge by
about the village (I was right about thehousesthe old bridlepath. It's not easy to find. You can't
being damp - the closeness of the river and thedrive there, you'll have to park up at the field
canopy of trees create a densely moistgate and walk."I wrote down her directions and a
environment). The grass was very spongy in therough map so that I could find the way if I ever
rain, and the path up to the church porch wasreturned to the village.
slippery. The lock was stiff, and I struggled for a